


Homecoming

by lesbianneptune



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood, F/F, Strong Language, spoilers for 6x09 kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 22:06:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7379203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianneptune/pseuds/lesbianneptune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the midst of the harshest of battles, Yara and Daenerys reunite at the end of the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homecoming

Daenerys could barely breathe.

It was cold - that much sensation she could muster from the frozen ends of her limbs, a feeling entirely new to her; a thoroughly unwanted experience, a stark reminder of how far she was from the soft curl of Drogon’s flame and the steady certainty of his power beneath her. The all too recent memory poisoned her mind, the memory of his blood on her hands, sticky as it spread up her arms, as she had tried to tend to his wounds and comfort his fear in the face of an militia with a strength that neither of them could have predicted – an army of the undead, the un-killable, the utterly inhuman.

In the wake of the confusion, she had been ushered towards what her attendants had assumed was safety, a word she now laughed at. There was no escaping the threat of the eternal army, a fact the whole world seemed to have realised a second too late. Her hiding place consisted of little more than a broken down hut, most likely the remains of a beloved home not all too long ago, before the frost had seeped in through the walls and death itself knocked upon the frail wooden door. Daenerys brought her knees closer to her chest as she shivered – from fear, or cold, or both, she did not know.  Her head leaned naturally against Missandei’s shoulder as their eyes watched the door expectantly.

“Is there anybody here!?”

The distant shout came suddenly out of the howling winds and Dany lurched forward, only to be pulled back by Missandei.

“You are safer here, Your Grace. Allow me to-“

“There is no danger. I recognise that voice,” Daenerys replied firmly, gently removing herself from Missandei’s protective grip.

It was a voice she could not forget.

As she moved towards the door to beckon her visitor forward, lights of a past life flashed through her disparate mind. They had been so playful back then, teasing and flirting with the soft weightlessness of maidens, the burdens of the future something of a wonder, the promise of freedom, and hope, and a new beginning held within each other. The sunshine had fluttered gently upon their faces in those days, and the rays had highlighted her smile in the most beautiful way, making Daenerys’ insides twist slightly in anticipation. Her hands had been tough yet purposefully gentle upon the young Queen’s skin, her lips even more so and Daenerys had not been able to contain her giggles and whimpers, which had soon melted into soft moans.

It was all so far away.

“Lady Yara!” Daenerys had cleared her throat before the yell, but it did not prepare her for the strange feeling of that name on her tongue once more.

“Your Grace!”

Yara’s limping form emerged from the cloud of ice, the red of blood staining her stomach stark against the seemingly neverending whiteness of winter. Daenerys’ breath caught at the sight, her nerves frayed as she surveyed the state of her lover.

“I told you, Your Grace, just Yara will do,” she smirked, but her eyebrows furrowed as she took another step.

“You’re hurt!”

“This? Nothing more than a paper cut. It appears my Queen underestimates me.”

“You’re hurt,” Daenerys repeated, cupping Yara’s cheek lightly before helping her into the shack and lowering her gently to the ground.

“I cannot stop for long, Your Grace. I must find Theon. I swear, I take my eye off that boy for a second…” Yara paused to inhale deeply and did not quite manage to get back to her thought, lost in a sudden sickness of pain.

“Of course,” Daenerys whispered as she ran a hand through Yara’s hair, pausing as she leaned instinctively into the touch. In the corner, Missandei blushed slightly and turned away.

“We’ll find Theon, after you let me take a look at that…paper cut, was it?”

Yara smiled through gritted teeth, one hand absent-mindedly fiddling with the hem of Daenerys’ dress.

“I was fighting one of those…things and some Lannister cunt managed to get up behind me. We had a scuffle – I took his head off, of course, but he did manage to land a hit or two. You would have thought with all this chaos, he’d have actually chosen the side of the living.”

“I’ve found you never can quite predict what men will do in these situations,” Daenerys said, her hands gently removing Yara’s chest armour. She hissed at the pain and Daenerys bit her lip, attempting and failing to pull the blood-soaked materials away from the open wound. Yara recoiled.

“Dany, don’t. There’s-”

“Let me help.”

“There’s nothing you can do,” Yara said quietly. Daenerys felt a sudden weight of guilt and helplessness and there was silence for a few moments, incoherent thoughts trapped in her throat, incapable of expression.

“Well,” she said after a while, “You’re not allowed to die on me, Lady Yara. Your Queen commands it.”

“In which case, I shall rethink my plans for the immediate future, Your Grace.”

“I am very glad to hear it. We have a war to win, you and I, do not forget that,” Daenerys bit back tears, moving her body closer so Yara could rest upon her. God knows, she needed it – the sweat clung to her skin, cloying and sickly, her breathing quick and unsteady. Daenerys prayed silently for rescue in a form she knew not; everybody she had known that could have helped was either dead, or soon to be. Winter would continue for years in this way and she had seen, when she had been amongst the thick of it, the horror of undead Greyjoy men, of the Dothraki with their butchered stallions mechanically flocking to the side of those they had so recently fought to the death. 

Daenerys wasn’t even sure there was a great deal left to survive for.

“When all this is over, you and me, we should go somewhere nice and warm,” Yara said, sensing Daenerys’ internalised distress, “I’d invite you back to the Iron Islands but, well-“

“It’s not exactly the most romantic getaway, I gather?” Daenerys teased.

“You’re not wrong there. Though I do regret you never got to see it.”

The unspoken lay between them like a septic haze: “And now you never will.”

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing for game of thrones, noticed that there really wasn't enough fanfiction for these two and I'm slightly in love with them both after last season. Hope it went okay! If people enjoy it, I can probably find it in me to write more, so lemme know if angst or fluff or whatever is preferred 'cause angst is my go-to comfort zone. Thanks!


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